Skip to main content

Nine Months (PP&P8)

Nine Months. We made it!
Took longer than expected,
But was worth the wait.


As we approached the boys' 9 month "birthday" this week, a friend remarked "Wow! They're breaking even!" And as the words came out we both corrected the remark and laughed. Nope, my boys are overachievers, they broke even 2 months ago.

This fleeting comment made me realize how "9 months" is a simple phrase or idea that we readily equate to pregnancy. What other "month" phrases have such a clear definition in our vernacular? 12 months is a year. 9 months is gestation. 7, 8, 6 months? No obvious definitions come to mind. But we all know what happened when a baby is born 9 months after his parents' wedding day. (And let's not forget all those preemies who were born 7 or 8 months after their parents' wedding day. <wink wink>)

But to a preemie mom, this colloquial "9 months" no longer has the same import as it did before we wore the "preemie mom" badge.

Now "9 months" comes with a sting:
Could I have kept them in longer?
Why did my body do this to them, to us?
What will happen next time I am pregnant?
They should have still been within me, growing and thriving.

But "9 months" also comes with a warm reminder:
Look how far they have come.
Look how healthy they are.
Look at what I have done that I never knew I could.

This week the warmest reminder was felt while celebrating our first full 9 month victory as a family. Our little boys are 9 months old. They have more than QUADRUPLED their weights. They are developmentally on track in many instances for actual 9 month olds, not even 7 month olds. They are little miracles and provide daily inspiration to work hard in order to overcome whatever obstacles life sets before us.

It took us 16 months to reach 9 months. And oh boy(s) was it worth the wait!


1 in 9 babies is born too soon. This is why I walk.
Join Our Journey: http://www.marchforbabies.org/ChiuBabies

Follow me on Instagram @merrymommyblog










Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Tiny but Mighty

Three pounds eight ounces Soft, warm weight upon my chest "Tiny but Mighty" These reassuring words came from Amy, the nurse who taught me how to express milk and use a breastpump (more on that pleasure in another post), in the few hours after delivery. As she matter-of-factly went about her duties in the first hours after my twin delivery, she simply said not to worry about the boys, they would be fine: "I say they are Tiny but Mighty." Those words became my mantra over the coming weeks. I knew she was right the moment I held Cameron for the first time. As I was wheeled into the first NICU nursery I had ever been in, I glanced rapidly around the room at the various isolettes and wondered which one held my precious baby boy. I was brought around the corner to the right and Cameron's nurse, Deanna, greeted me. I peered in at this little angel and had no idea what to do: Was I allowed to hold him? To touch him? To kiss him? More importantly... Was he ...

Memorial Day--Remembering Life Lost

Oh say does that star-spangled banner yet wave. O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave? This Memorial Day weekend was a different kind than most of us have ever experienced. The honor and respect for our flag and all those who gave their lives for it was present, but the way we recognized this honor was vastly different. There were no crowded beaches with thundering air shows above, no parades with on-lookers cheering, no marching bands performing patriotic pomp, no pools and yards full of shouts and splashes of summer's unofficial arrival. This weekend, after months of indoor isolation, we had a profoundly different kick off to summer. In fact, while we were busy outwardly honoring the lives courageously sacrificed for our nation, many of us were inwardly reflecting on the elements of our own lives we have given up these past few months in the name of our neighbor. I don't intend to compare the fleeting inconvenience of mask-wearing and social di...

Kindergarten: The First Brave Steps

Big black tires slow, Screeching breaks, it's time to go. Kindergarten. Whoa. I can't believe I am saying this, but my boys started kindergarten today. Those two little preemie fighters I was just snuggling in the NICU got on the school bus and drove off to their next big chapter of childhood. I have been thinking about this day for a while and feeling so excited for them, and (let's face it) for me. I don't feel sad to "lose" them, rather proud of who they have become and the energy and love poured into getting them to this place. It is an accomplishment for both them and for me. One which I readily celebrated today. But one thing that lingered with me for the past several weeks was actually spurred by a game of Candy Land. Now, this was my favorite game as a child: The winding colorful path of sweet squares punctuated by sugary surprises, culminating in the greatest candy castle one could imagine. I love that my kids love this game as much...